[Synopses: Everyone has an origin story; just that one day that's different from all the rest and you realize your everyday routine is about to be rudely dismissed...]
"Lily! Where are you been? You had two appointments walk out already!" Lily shook off her rain coat as she stumbled into the salon. An old lady frowned at her as she gracelessly tripped over her own feet.
"Sorry, the bus was tied up behind an accident on 53rd. I half ran the way here. God, I hate New York! Who would want to get a haircut in this weather anyway?" She blustered, suddenly remembered the old lady still frowning at her, she stuttered through an apology. Finally reaching her booth unscarred, from her own clumsiness and the old woman, she quickly fixed her own messy platinum blonde mop and set to her tasks.
"All set, Hank, as devilish as ever." the old man stood wobbly from Anne's chair, whispered something in Anne's ear. She laughed her polite little laugh. Hank helped the old woman up from her chair and took a few moments to bundle up against the cold April rain.
The rest of the day progressed slowly from the rain, though the salon stayed steady, despite Lily's prediction. The end of the day finally came, lights from neighboring shops reflected off the dark street, cars still zoomed in streaks of light. The tiny salon's light reached out into the evening's darkness like a lantern.
Anne and Lily were closing up shop, their radio was turned up and they took turns with the broom turn microphone as Starship played "Nothing's going to stop us now!" The two danced around the store folding towels and refilling conditioners. Lily stopped at the register and hit the till to close it out. She looked up to the door, outside a man was standing staring straight at her; he had a solemn wrinkled face, dark skinned, and long dark hair braided over his shoulders. She yelped and jumped back, but as soon as she blinked he was gone.
"Ahh!" Anne echoed, dropping the broom, "Jesus, Lil. Don't do that!"
"Did you see him?" Lily's head jerked from Anne behind her to where the man had been.
"What? Probably just some guy wondering the streets."
"I don't think so… he looked, like…an Indian?" she laughed nervously, but the hairs on her arms and back of her neck stood on edge.
"Like.…Indian as in Cowboys and Indians?...in New York …Okay, well, looks like we're done here." Anne hurriedly replaced the broom and stowed away the radio. Lily knew she sounded crazy, but she also knew what she saw. She collected herself and counted the money, looking up every so often at the door.
The rain was still persisting as Lily and Anne locked up the door behind them. Lily took extra caution to look around them before snapping the final lock.
The bus ride home was uneventful, but Lily couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched. From the bus stop, she jogged up to her apartment building. Someone was yelling in the hallway again, and a trash bag was over turned a few doors down from hers. When her top lock slid closed, she finally let out an easy breath.
"You're losing it, Lil." she said to herself. She forgot to grab the mail on her way up, but she dismissed it for later. She kicked off her shoes and made for the kitchen. Her laptop laid open on the counter where she left it, she flicked a key and it dinged to life with numerous email alerts.
Hold her sandwich between her teeth she filtered through her messages. A few from her mother back in Wisconsin, junk advertisements, and a reply to from Juilliard Dancing School. She almost chocked on her sandwich, and she quickly read through the letter out loud.
"Ms. Akerson, thank you for you audition last Tuesday, you show great determination… Blah blah blah, we regret to inform you your application at this time has been …" she slumped further over the counter and stared at the word "denied."
She closed the laptop with a slap. With a mood that matched the sky, she settled on her bed next to a cat who barely acknowledged her existence. She ripped off a bite of meat and offered it to the cat, the cat sniffed sleepily than chomped on the morsel. Lily scratch the cat's head affectionately.
"3 schools, 3 rejections, Romeo… maybe it's time we go home." The cat purred back, from the kitchen her cell phone started to chirp.
"Hey, mom."
"Lily, are you okay?" her mother sounded relieved from just a hello.
"Yea, well…" she said taken aback by the urgency from her, "Great timing, as usual, I got rejected again."
"Oh honey, I'm so sorry. You worked so hard on this." she flopped down on her bed again and resumed petting Romeo, who was sniffing for more sandwich. "Aside that… is everything else okay?" the repeated question made her uneasy all over again, she glanced at the door locks. "I'm thinking about coming home. There's nothing for me here, I look too young and not good enough to make it."
"Lilypad, that is not a time for your self pity. Come home, some strange things have been happening around here. I've been having my bad feeling again, and before you start, it's not just me. Your grandfather is feeling it too."
"Oh, yes, that's very serious."
"Lily Grace, honestly!"
"Sorry, sorry, but, mom" she signed, looking at her closed laptop, "no, you're right, things are at a dead end here. I will come home. It'll take me some time to save for the move, I'll have to sell most of my stuff again… I'll figure it out- Now, I know what you're going to say and I'm not taking your money, this was my crazy idea, I'll get myself out of it."
"Okay, sweetie… It's late, you'll call me tomorrow, won't you."
"Sure, I will… and hey mom, has… grandpa been hanging around the reservation again?"
"Actually, yes, the old man Gunther went on some trip last week and appointed Dad a council position."
"Gunther has to be at least 100 years old, how is he even alive? And a council member? But grandpa's not even American." she laughed at the absurdity.
"No, but he's a very proud Irishman, he feels he does the most good hanging around them." The image of the man from the salon brought a fresh chill down her spine. The Indians gave her the creeps when she was a kid, her grandfather would take her to the reservation for celebrations, thou she never remembered much but dancing in awkward circles and loud drums. Her grandfather was more into native American history than their own history in Ireland, in a way she always felt betrayed a little by that.
"Why you ask, Lily?"
"oh, it's nothing… I'll talk to you tomorrow, Mom. Love you."
"Love you too, sweetie. Goodnight."
In Wisconsin, Beth Akerson clicked off her phone and looked at the old man across the table from her. Harold Molgain's once red hair was bleached white from age, and he looked at his daughter over the rim of his bifocal glasses.
"She'll come home. She sounded different, you think Gunther contacted her?"
The old man shrugged, "I told the chief, all he had to do was call her, why the cloak and dagger nonsense, I have no idea. All he said was 'old way is best way'. She will awaken soon. Something terrible is about to happen, Bethy, bring our flock home."
"Jack is in Germany, he already told me no. Think's we're a bunch of superstitious loons."
"For Jack's sake, I hope he's right."
"Are you certain it's in her?"
"Gunther saw it in her, but not Jack. She radiates," he held out his hands in front of him as he tried, again, for the countless time, to explain to his daughter what could not be explained in simple terms. "She's never been in a fight, never a broken bone, always upset about wars and conflicts, remember when she was 10 she was going to run away from home and join the Peace Corp." They both laughed at the memories.
"Yea, and Gunther found her at the train station."
A pause passed between them.
"When the world quakes, the Keepers will wake." he recited. Before Beth could protest her father, the same over whelming dread filled her again, just as when she first called Lily. They sat together, each in silent prayer.
In a messy one room apartment in the ghettos of New York city, the young woman snuggled with her over feed cat. Outside, the rain pattered on against the fire escape. It pooled and spilled over the ledges landing with a splash on the tan leather coat and dark grey braids of the old Indian Chief watching over her. Singing a quiet prayer song, his eyes glowing white.